


you're the one that I'm running to

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Reunions, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 15:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11763111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Bernie stepped off the Eurostar three days ago and she’s still seen next to nothing of France.





	you're the one that I'm running to

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this amount of sappiness. Make sure you brush your teeth afterwards or it might give you a cavity. Thanks as always to Matilda for being the best beta gal could ask for.

Bernie stepped off the Eurostar three days ago and she’s still seen next to nothing of France.

Serena had been waiting there, tan and stunningly beautiful in a bright coral vest and a long flowing skirt; summer sun shining on her cropped, silvering hair and lips curved in a breathtaking smile.

Her bag had barely hit the platform before Serena was in her arms, pressed tightly against her so perfectly it made Bernie’s chest ache, smelling of sunshine and grape tang and perfume so familiar it tasted like home. She felt her eyes burn as she tightened her arms around Serena’s waist, burying her face in the side of her neck as Serena murmured a soft, “Hello, stranger,” in her ear.

Serena had taken her hand and quickly shuffled Bernie into her cherry red convertible, pulling away from the train station with her hand firmly on Bernie’s thigh. She’d taken Bernie’s hand when they reached the quaint ivy-covered farmhouse and led her inside, kept hold of Bernie’s hand as she led her up the stairs, slid Bernie’s hand between her legs as they fell onto the bed.

They’ve hardly left the bed since, aside from scrounging the occasional meal to be eaten while tucked under the duvet, and a few glorious hours spent soaking in Serena’s claw footed tub.

They spend hours and hours relearning each other’s bodies, revisiting the places they loved to explore. Bernie keeps running her fingers through Serena’s hair, tracing them over the new lines around her eyes, finding the changes wrought during their time apart and pressing her mouth to each new detail to welcome it into her life. Serena does the same: presses her lips to the new scar at the base of Bernie’s thumb, gained in a disastrous cooking attempt, runs her hands over the thigh muscles now clearly defined by her renewed running routine, flicks her tongue against the sun-soaked freckles along her collarbones.

When they’re not touching, not tasting, not tracing the details of each other, they talk, long rambling conversations that go far into the late hours of the night.

About the trauma unit, and Ric’s attempt to sacrifice his position for Bernie’s. About Serena’s travels, and all the people she’s met as she meandered her way through the south of France. They talk about Jason, about Jasmine, about Elinor. They talk holding one another in the dark, crying as they finally have the conversations they didn’t know how to broach, say everything they couldn’t all those months ago.

Time apart has allowed both of them to heal, softened sharp edges and dulled pain. Made them able to share it, to let one another in, to give comfort and accept the comfort offered.

Bernie watches Serena sleep in the grey light of dawn and finally feels the jagged slices of her heart knit back together. Still tender, still wounded, but healing.

…

She aimlessly traces patterns on the smooth, soft skin of Serena’s back, connecting the freckles into her own personal constellations as the afternoon sun spills across the haven of Serena’s bed.

They had finally given in to their rumbling stomachs and put together a tray of food; soft white cheese, sweet grapes, slices of crusty bread balanced between them in the bed. With her free hand Bernie snags a grape, popping it into her mouth with a satisfied hum. She’s just started to chew when she notices Serena’s eyes on her, serious and unreadable. It’s so different from her looks of the last few days that Bernie feels a wave of fear skitter up her spine.

“What?” she manages to mumble around her mouthful, coughing a little as she swallows awkwardly.

Serena stares a moment longer, intense, searching, before reaching to grab something Bernie can’t see from the drawer in the nightstand. She sits up to face Bernie, cross legged, tucks the sheet around her bare torso, careful not to topple their lunch all over the sheets.

“Bernie,” her voice is hesitant, nervous, and Bernie feels her stomach sink. Thinks that the closeness of the last few days has been too much, too soon, that she’s overstayed her welcome. That Serena has realized she’s not ready to have Bernie back in her life. 

Bernie is still panicking, her mind still whirling, trying to figure out where she’s going to go, what she’s going to do, when Serena’s hand slides into hers. She looks up and the strange look in Serena’s eyes has faded. She’s still nervous, still uncertain, but filled with such warmth, such affection. Bernie feels as if the soft rays of sunlight are surrounding her.

“Bernie,” Serena starts again, “I know how hard this has been for you. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am I had to leave, that I left you alone through everything that has happened.”

Bernie shakes her head, mouth opening to deny it, but she’s stopped by the press of Serena’s fingers against her lips.

“Please, Bernie. Please just listen.” Bernie can only nod, stroking her thumb over the back of Serena’s hand as it tangles once again with her own.

“I’m not sorry that I left. It was the right thing for me, the necessary thing. But I will always be sorry for how much it hurt you.” She sighs, tilting her head to the side. “I’ve learned so much while I’ve been away, so much about myself. I’ve had to find a way to make peace with myself, with what happened to Elinor.” She swallows against the roughness of tears in her voice and Bernie squeezes her hand in reassurance.

“It doesn’t always work, mind you,” Serena adds, clears her throat and charges on. “There are still bad days -- days where I’m so sad, so angry, that I have a hard time seeing my way back -- and I’m not certain that will ever go away entirely.” Serena breathes deep, straightening her shoulders as if preparing for a blow.

“But there are a few things I am certain of.” She smiles then, tilts her head to the side to gaze at Bernie, and Bernie feels her heart flip in her chest. “I love you, Bernie Wolfe. I love you so much and I’ve missed you every day.” 

Bernie feels her face stretch into a lopsided grin as relief and joy wash over her in equal measure. They had never had the time before, for those words to become habit, and each time she hears them the fizzing newness of it hits her all over again.

“But,” Bernie feels her grin fade as Serena’s gaze turns serious again. “I also know that hope isn’t enough. It’s not enough for either of us.”

Serena pulls her hand free from Bernie’s, fidgeting them in her lap, her mouth tightened into a thin line. It’s as if she’s run out of words, thoughts overwhelming her until she can’t speak.

“Serena?” Bernie prompts gently, trepidatious and anxious. A part of her wants this conversation to end, to never hear whatever horrible thing Serena is about to say. The same part that wants to kiss her until she stops talking, make love to her until she forgets this conversation all together. But a larger part of her knows that putting off the painful things only makes them worse in the long run.

“Right.” Serena breathes deep, returning to herself. Looks at Bernie, eyes determined. “I know you’re leaving soon for Sudan and I know how important the work is to you. I’m so very proud of you for doing it.” She reaches out to pat the back of Bernie’s hand. “But,” she adds, turning Bernie’s hand over and pressing something small and cool into her palm. “While you’re there, I want us both to have something more than hope to hold onto.”

Bernie furrows her brow, looking down as she unfurls her hand still cupped in Serena’s, at the ring resting in her palm: a band of gold filigree crowned with a single sparkling diamond. She stares at it for a long moment, uncomprehendingly, until a wave of realization crashes over her. Bernie’s eyes widen, snapping up to meet Serena’s uncertain gaze.

“Serena?” Bernie whispers breathlessly, eyes flicking back and forth between the ring in her hand and Serena’s rueful smile.

“I’m not saying it would need to be soon,” Serena assures her, sliding her hands away from Bernie and playing with the pendant around her neck. “The ceremony, I mean. Although it could be, if you like.” She waves her free hand a little helplessly, rambling, words spilling over each other in a jumble. “We could do it before you go, or, or after you come back. Or not at all, really, it’s not the actual, it’s just, I mean...” She finally stops to breathe, hand shaking as she reaches out to clasp Bernie’s hands again, tangles the fingers of one hand together while the other stays open, ring resting in the middle of Bernie’s life line. “Berenice Wolfe, will you marry me?”

Bernie can feel every, single beat of her heart with startling clarity; feel every drop of blood pumping through her veins, pounding like a drum in her ears. 

The moment stretches, infinite and vast, and Serena’s tremulous smile fades in the face of her silence and she curls in on herself. Bernie sees the moment slipping, sees some of the distance of the past months yawn anew between them, and she can’t seem to say anything to call it back. The words stick in Bernie’s throat, trapped behind the lump of emotion lodged so snug she can barely breath, let alone speak. She can’t speak.

Bernie uses the only language she knows left to her. Surges forward, captures Serena’s mouth in a deep, searching kiss. Threads a hand into Serena’s hair as her tongue delves into her mouth, holding Serena in place as she pours every emotion, every ounce of happiness into the connection. 

Serena’s hands rise to frame Bernie’s face, fingers playing with the wisps behind ears, her palms warm and comforting on her cheeks. 

The touch finally frees the words from Bernie’s chest as her heart bursts open, everything spilling out into the nothing between them. 

“Yes,” she murmurs against Serena’s mouth between peppered kisses, unwilling to move her lips more than a few millimeters away. “Yes, yes, yes…” She says over and over; can’t seem to stop now she’s started, each affirmation punctuated by another soft kiss until Serena is giggling and squirming away.

There are tears on both of their faces when they finally separate. Serena’s hands tremble as she slips the delicate ring onto Bernie’s finger.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It was my mother’s,” Serena replies softly. “I’ve always thought she would have liked you. She’s have liked the way you keep me in line.”

“Hardly, _you’re_ the one who keeps _me_ in line,” Bernie rebuffs, and can’t help the laughter that honks out of her. Can’t help laughing harder when Serena smacks her on the shoulder, a look of mock offence on her face. 

She grabs Serena’s hand and drags her into her lap as she squeals. The sheet falls away as she rolls Serena beneath her to kiss her beautiful mouth. The food clatters to the floor, clang loud and resounding and ignored; stays there, forgotten, as the sunlight filtering in past the curtain fades to dusk. 


End file.
